Authors: Kimball Lee
“You were fucking forty years old and she was seventeen!” I yell, falling right into his trap, moving in so close that we’re standing chest to chest. “Didn’t she deserve better than a drunk, broken down, washed-up cowboy for a husband? She died because you wouldn’t spend a dime to take here to the fucking hospital to have her baby. She fucking bled to death while you watched.”
My dad takes a quick look around the bar, it’s a one room shack set back off the highway on the outskirts of Tallulah. It’s empty right now except for the ancient bartender who’s deaf as a post. There’s no one here to witness his cunning style of fatherly discipline. He’s old but he’s as big as I am and hits like a fucking freight train. I land on my back on the filthy floor when his fist connects with my jaw. “It was your fault your miserable bastard!” he yells, and I know he’s past the point of return. “You were too fucking big, eleven fucking pounds, and she was small and just a kid herself!” He howls the words and hits me again as soon as I stand up to face him.
“Go ahead Tom, finish it,” I say, lifting my hands above my head so he can beat me and cut me until he exhausts either his strength or his anger.
And he does—and I let him. Crazy and mean and hateful as he is, he’s my father, a piss-poor imitation of a parent, but the only one I’ve got. I force myself to stand still and absorb his anger and fury because as insane as it is—I believe him when he says I deserve it. He uses my body as a punching bag, and he fights dirty, I feel a rib crack and then another, and it hurts like a motherfucker. But pain can be controlled, turned off, endured, this is nothing compared to the hatred in his eyes when he looks at me, I’d rather take the beating. There isn’t an inch of my torso he doesn’t hammer like he’s trying to kill his worst enemy. When he’s too worn out to hit anymore he reaches in his shirt pocket and the switchblade flashes quick across my chest once, twice, too many times to count.
Finally the bartender notices what’s happening and yells for him to get the fuck out or he’ll call the fucking Law! A group of ranch-hands from the Corazon Perdido burst through the front door, laughing and joking after a long day’s work and they stop dead in their tracks for a stunned instant, then they grab my father and wrestle him to the ground. But not before he does something he’s never done before—he swipes the blade hard and deep across my face.
“I bet you’ll remember now, boy!” My father yells and fights so hard it takes six brawny cowboys to subdue him, and still he continues to shout. “You look in the mirror from now on, Holt, and you’ll see what you are, you’re a killer! That girl can’t love you, you hear me? No woman in her right mind will ever love you. You’re the kiss of death, you took what I loved and I cursed you then and I’ve cursed you every day of your life!”
“Come on, Holt,” Wes says. “I’m takin’ you to the hospital.”
“Hell no, just drive me over to Randa’s place, she can patch me up. I’m alright, it’s not that bad,” I say walking out into the dirt parking lot. But he’s right, it must be pretty bad, my face feels numb and my shirt is soaked with blood.
“Both of you are out of your fuckin’ minds. You need to steer clear of Tom, he ain’t getting’ any nicer in his old age. Fuck, I think my old buddy has gone too far for sure. Get in the fuckin’ truck, Holt, I swear to God you’re gonna bleed to death. I’ll come back for Tom when he’s cooled down, if the sheriff don’t show up first and haul his ass to jail. Tell ya the truth, that’s where he belongs, either jail or a mental institution.”
*
We leave Tom and drive down the main street of Tallulah, the sun is setting in the west, and the streets lights are flickering on. Bree and Martita stand on the sidewalk, their hands animated as Scarlet laughs at whatever story they’re telling as she unlocks the door to my truck.
“Fuck! Stop, there’s no way to keep this from her, she might as well see who I am, how it is being the
beloved
son of Tom Corrigan,” I say and I feel weary, just tired down deep in my bones.
Wes pulls in next to her and he looks over at me with a world of pity and regret in his eyes, something I’ve never seen from him before. “He’s full of shit, you know, ol’ Tom. I love him like a brother, but he’s done wrong by makin’ you carry a load of blame that ain’t your fault. Son, you’re worth more than all three of my boys put together. Go get your girl, I saw the way she looks at you, she loves you. She don’t care ‘bout your daddy, and as for you, just let go of Tom’s poison and let that girl love you with all her might.”
“Holt!” Scarlet screams when I step out of the truck. I’ve peeled off my T-shirt to catch the blood flowing from my face, but by now it’s saturated and dripping.
“I’m okay, it’s just a scratch,” I say and her beautiful, tear streaked face is the last thing I see before I stumble back into Wes’s truck and the world goes black.
*
“What a big baby you are,” Randa says as she draws the needle and thread through the gash that cuts across my right cheekbone. “Both of you, Holt, you passed out cold and your girlfriend can’t stop crying. There, it’s not as bad as it could’ve been, deep but not very long. Don’t worry you’re still pretty. Wes, help me sit him up, damn Holt, how much do you weigh? I’ve worked on horses smaller than you!” She says and winks at Scarlet before she starts prodding my stomach and sides to check the damage.
“Scarlet, come here, I’m okay. Don’t cry, beauty,” I say and she flings herself at me as a new torrent of tears wash down her face. I hug her to me trying not to flinch at the pain in my ribcage. It flairs and burns like a son-of-a-bitch, but she doesn’t need to know that. Wes brought me to Randa’s little Vet Clinic at the edge of town and now I’m sitting on an exam table that usually holds dogs, or cats, or pigs.
“What happened, Holt? Were you in a car wreck? Where’s your dad, was he hurt too?” Scarlet asks and Wes clears his throat and mumbles, “Yeah, I better go on now and check that ol’ Tom ain’t too beat up or… worse.”
“Not a car wreck, just a bar fight, don’t worry about it,” I tell Scarlet and kiss her sweet, pouty mouth but I can’t look her in the eye.
“You’re gonna have to sit up straight, Corrigan, and let me wrap his ribcage. You have three broken ribs and multiple contusions. Correct me if I’m wrong but there isn’t a man in this entire county big enough or dumb enough to take you on in a bar fight,” Randa says. She finishes wrapping my ribs and takes my hands in hers, turns them over and runs her fingers across my knuckles. “Same old predator, huh? Why you never hit back I’ll never understand.”
“What’s she talking about, Holt?” Scarlet asks, her voice is shaky with alarm.
“Check out his hands, Scarlet, not a scratch on them. He lets it happen, thinks it’s the price he owes his father for ruining his life.”
“Holt, your dad beat you and cut your face? This is bad, I mean that cut is deep, not like the others, and you’re body is so… battered. He broke your ribs!” Scarlet says and at first she’s sad but now she’s mad, and I can tell her blood is boiling as she looks at me with…. With what? Disgust.
“Just take me home, please. You’re leaving tomorrow, beauty, you won’t have to look at me again,” I say and I hop down off the table, ignore the pain that shoots through every square inch of my body, and settle into the truck with Scarlet behind the wheel.
“What do you mean I won’t have to look at you again?” Scarlet asks when we get to the house and I sit on the edge of porch bathtub. I’m trying to wash off as much blood as I can without getting my bandages too wet. “Here, you’re doing a terrible job, let me do that for you. Holt, I know you won’t press charges against your father for this and I’m trying to understand, but my God! I love my dad like crazy, I hate to admit it but I love my dad way more than I love my mother, still… there are limits to unconditional love, Holt.”
“Beauty,” I say, as she gently washes the caked blood from my body, “I know there are limits to love and if I love my father unconditionally it’s because I don’t know any other way. No one has ever loved me and they never will, so what I get from him… what I allow him to do to me is because he’s all I have.”
“What about me? You don’t want me? It doesn’t matter if I….” She says and her eyes are so full of love and longing it nearly rips my heart right out of my chest.
Today is her last day in Texas, tomorrow she flies to Georgia, and who knows if she’ll ever come back to me. So I take a chance, what do I have to lose? I inhale deeply, and tell her the truth.
“I’m so lost in love with you, Scarlet. I’ve tried to fight it, but you have to go, you
have
to leave me. I’m not a man who deserves to be loved in return. It’s okay, beauty, it’s a truth I’ve lived with all my life. The first words I remember hearing when I was just a kid… well, those words don’t matter and you don’t need to hear the ugliness of them. I understand that you can’t love me back, no matter how truly, madly, hopelessly I have fallen in love with you. And I have, Scarlet, God help me, I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Holt, not unless it’s with you. You wanna stay here in Tallulah? I want to stay here with you. You’re going to Montana? Let me come too. Your adventures will be my adventures, we can work together. You build something rustic and I’ll make it beautiful, you and me, we make a good team. Montana will be the start of our big adventure, if that’s okay with you…. Even if you just want me for a business partner or a….”
“Or a wife? Yeah, that’s about the size of it, beauty. I want you for my wife. If it’s asking too much, though, I can be your partner.” I say pulling her mouth to mine, and I can’t help but kiss her so deep and long, it leaves us weak and wanting more.
“Too much? Ha! Holt Corrigan, everything about you is nearly too much for my heart to handle. So here goes— Yes! You bet! Absolutely, positively, I do! I will! I’ll marry you! I’ll marry you tonight, tomorrow, just say when!” She says, laughing and kissing my face, my lips, brushing her lips ever so lightly across my stitched up cheek.
“When!” I say and I pull Scarlet onto my lap and then we fall over the edge of the tub and sink into the warm water. I can’t stop kissing her, I can’t believe she’s mine, I’m the luckiest man alive, she’s what I’ve waited for all my life, the prize of a lifetime. And my bandages will just have to be changed later because pain or no pain, I’m claiming my hard-won, life-altering, beautiful, beautiful, prize.
*
I wake at dawn with the sun slanting across the spectacular sight of Scarlet’s bare ass. Let me make one thing perfectly clear—there is no better sight in the world! The phone jangles in the kitchen, cutting through the memories of all the fun, filthy sex we indulged in last night—Scarlet said we shouldn’t be doing such things, what about my ribs? Hell, making love to her sweet body all bound up in my silky rope was the best pain reliever in the world.
I force myself to get out of bed, go in the kitchen, yank the damn phone off its cradle, and pop a pod into the coffee machine.
“Holt. Hey it’s Campbell. Listen buddy, I just pulled into your driveway, get dressed and hurry it up. Your dad’s in the hospital over in Pleasanton. We need to go now, Holt.”
“I’m coming,” I say and I drop the phone and go back into the bedroom to get dressed.
“What is, Holt? Why are you up so early? You’re leaving… where are….?” Scarlet says, and she sounds panicky, her amber eyes are huge as she watches me stumble into jeans and boots and grab a shirt before I head out the door.
“I’ll be back, beauty, don’t worry. Everything’s fine, pack your bags, we’ll leave for Montana as soon as I get back. I love you, Scarlet, I love you so much it hurts.”
*
I sit beside my father in the hospital, his breathing is shallow and the blips on the screen that monitor his heart are slowing down. The peaks and valleys glowing on the screen are getting closer and closer together, nearly a straight line. He opens his eyes, they’re watery, pale and almost translucent, and as much as I hate it, a tear trickles down my cheek as he watches me with those ghostly eyes.
“Don’t cry for me, boy. A man lives by the sword, he dies by the sword. I met up with some illegal’s outside that damn bar, they were jumpy as shit. I s’pose they thought I was gonna turn ‘em into the authorities and they’d git sent back across the border. It’s better this way, Holt, it’s a good death, nothin’ to be ashamed of.”
“I don’t know why things were always so rough between us,” I say, trying to figure out how to repair twenty-seven years’ worth of damage in the time he has left. “You raised me the best way you knew how. I was a fuck-up from the start, what happened to Mom, I should have been the one who died,” I say and run a hand over my face, surprised at how wet it is. Why the fuck am I crying useless tears for this old man.
“We all die when we’re meant to, boy, I was a coward and didn’t know how to go on without her. You were okay, if I could do it all over again….” He says and coughs and a thin line of blood trails down his chin.
I stand over him, pull a tissue from a box and wipe the blood away. He sighs and makes a gurgling sound low in his chest.
“You’re a good boy, a decent man. I’m tired of livin’, thought maybe you’d be the one to kill me, but you ain’t the kind to harm nobody. Don’t know why I tried to beat the goodness out of ya, make ya more like me. You ain’t like me, Holt, hear me? I’m gonna tell you this just once, you’re the better man by a long shot,” he says and his voice is only a blood-tinged rasp.